


We'll Always Have Paris

by bigbabyjeno



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flight Attendants, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I mean there's like a minuscule amount of plot, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbabyjeno/pseuds/bigbabyjeno
Summary: Jaebum watches Jinyoung make his way down the aisle, smiling and murmuring to people as he passes. He’s so good at this, so much better than Jaebum has ever been. It doesn’t hurt that he’s beautiful, that the uniform suits him so well it’s as if they designed it with him in mind, vest framing his wide shoulders and cinching tight around his narrow waist, trousers hugging the curve of his ass in a way that’s almost obscene. He just puts people at ease, makes them want to please him without even having to try. It would be annoying if Jaebum didn’t feel the exact same way every time Jinyoung so much as smiled at him.Jaebum’s not going to think about that now, though. That’s a thought for another time, when he’s off the clock and out of uniform, when he’s not Jinyoung’s coworker but just a sort-of friend who’s been harboring a deep-seated crush on him for the entirety of the time they’ve been working together and casually hanging out on their time off. So nearly two years. Pathetic.





	We'll Always Have Paris

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely Almay's fault. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Thank you to both Almay and Ayesha for their encouragement I GUESS, writing this was. An experience. 
> 
> I have so many other things I should be working on, but this just... yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

“Why did you become a flight attendant?”

“Easiest way to travel the world,” Jaebum answers. 

“But you barely even get time -“

“I know that  _ now _ ,” Jaebum says with a roll of his eyes, folding his sleeves up over his elbows. “I was young and naive then.”

Jinyoung snorts, but has the grace to not point out that Jaebum has been a flight attendant for all of two years.

They’re 9 hours into a 12 hour flight and Jaebum feels disgusting. It doesn’t help matters that a passenger got sick in one of the bathrooms just three hours into the flight, or that Mr. 38F has been pressing the call button every 15 minutes for the past hour to ask for freshly hot tea. Jaebum has half a mind to show him where the hot water pot is and tell him to brew it himself, but he’s not in the mood to be fired today. They have a rare 36 hour layover in Paris, and he’s quite excited to do some sight-seeing, take some pictures for his portfolio. 

The call button flashes on again and Jaebum bites back a vicious curse. Jinyoung offers him a sympathetic smile, lays a hand on his arm and murmurs, “I’ll take this one.”

“Thank you,” Jaebum breathes, gratitude welling up in his chest. He’s so tired.

He watches Jinyoung make his way down the aisle, smiling and murmuring to people as he passes. He’s so good at this, so much better than Jaebum has ever been. It doesn’t hurt that he’s beautiful, that the uniform suits him so well it’s as if they designed it with him in mind, vest framing his wide shoulders and cinching tight around his narrow waist, trousers hugging the curve of his ass in a way that’s almost obscene. He just puts people at ease, makes them want to please him without even having to try. It would be annoying if Jaebum didn’t feel the exact same way every time Jinyoung so much as smiled at him.

Jaebum’s not going to think about that now, though. That’s a thought for another time, when he’s off the clock and out of uniform, when he’s not Jinyoung’s coworker but just a sort-of friend who’s been harboring a deep-seated crush on him for the entirety of the time they’ve been working together and casually hanging out on their time off. So nearly two years. Pathetic. 

Jaebum makes himself busy while Jinyoung satisfies 38F’s demands. He pours cups of water to pass out and prepares a few trash bags, sets a cup of Jinyoung’s favorite peppermint tea aside for when he returns. The grateful smile Jinyoung aims at him has mortifying butterflies fluttering around in his belly and a dull flush coloring his cheeks, so he mumbles something about the passengers, grabs a tray of water cups, and slips past Jinyoung and out into the aisle; tries determinedly not to meet Jinyoung’s eye as he materializes across from him on the opposite aisle with a second tray, his polite, impersonal passenger smile on his face. A smile that only turns genuine when Jaebum fails his personal mission, their eyes catching as they pass row 38 and the man in seat F begins to open his mouth to say something, before Jinyoung neatly and inconspicuously busies himself with another row.

The last couple of hours of long flights always seem the longest, but somehow, this flight is an exception to the rule. They finish handing out water, collect trash, then spend the last hour in the jump seats at the back of the airplane, knees interlocked in the narrow space beside the airplane door. 

“So, have you thought about what you want to do in Paris?” Jinyoung asks, chin tucked down against his chest as he looks up at Jaebum, something unreadable in his eyes.

The first item on Jaebum’s list is a nap, he’s been awake far too long to feel human anymore. After that, though... he hums contemplatively. 

“I did a little research and was thinking about one of the river tours? Easiest way to see it all,” he muses. “Take some nice pictures.”

Jinyoung’s answering smile is unexpected for such a mundane statement, but he knocks his knees against Jaebum’s, says, “I was thinking the same. Want to take the tour together?”

Trying his best to appear casual, Jaebum answers, “Sure. I’d like the company.” 

He had hoped they could spend some of their time off together, but sometimes, after a long flight and difficult passengers, the other flight attendants - Jaebum included - just like to spend some time alone. He’s glad this isn’t one of those times, wonders if Jinyoung will join him for dinner, as well. The finding a small cafe, maybe drinking wine together at sunset, has Jaebum’s brain short circuiting, though, so he puts the thought aside. For now. He can’t quite suppress the satisfied little smile that curves his mouth for the rest of the flight, though, despite the haze of exhaustion that settles over him the closer they get to landing.

➿

When Jaebum wakes up, sunlight is streaming in through a window with its curtains thrown wide. He comes to slowly, mind still full of cobwebs as he sits up, sheets pooling around his waist. He’s impressed with himself for managing to take his uniform off and crawl under the blankets, because he has no recollection of leaving the airport and arriving at the hotel. Yawning hugely, Jaebum peers blearily around the room as he struggles to wake up. He needs a shower desperately, and then he needs to figure out what time it is, what Jinyoung is up to, and how to get to one of the boat stops. Not necessarily in that order.

Attempting to multitask, Jaebum takes his phone with him to the bathroom, scrolls through his emails and texts from home as he brushes his teeth. Just as he’s about to step into the shower, his phone pings with a new message. The screen reads ‘Jinyoungie’, and Jaebum’s breath whooshes out with embarrassing intensity. 

“Get a grip,” he mumbles to himself as he unlocks the screen and pulls up the message.

**Jinyoungie [8:34 AM]**

_ Are you awake? _

**Jaebum [8:34 AM]** _ just making myself presentable _

_ We still on for the boat tour? _

He tries not to hold his breath in anticipation of Jinyoung’s response, busies himself turning the shower on and grabbing one of the complimentary bottles of shampoo from the vanity. Jaebum’s pulse jumps embarrassingly when his phone dings.

**Jinyoung [8:36 AM]** _ Meet me in the lobby in 20 minutes. I’ll bring coffee.  _

Jaebum stares down at the message for a minute before snapping to action. He tosses his phone onto the vanity, then slips into the shower, scrubs furiously at his hair and skin until he’s pink and tingling and has removed every trace of airplane from his person. 

Freshly showered and dried off, Jaebum thanks himself for only packing two outfits, not too many choices to get hung up on, as he hurriedly dresses, the clock ticking down far too quickly. He takes two minutes to study his own reflection, cheeks stained pink from a combination of hot shower, rushing to get ready, and anticipation. His hair is a mess, but it will dry quick enough in the summer sun, he supposes. He’s glad he had the forethought to pack his leather jacket, rather than a hoodie, hopes his simple outfit is something Jinyoung will appreciate. Jaebum spends a full minute contemplating the small travel bottle of cologne before he realizes he has about 45 seconds to get downstairs before he’s officially late. Shaking his head, he sprays a bit on, grabs his jacket and camera, and hurries out the door.

The elevator is so slow it sets Jaebum’s teeth on edge, and by the time he finally reaches the ground floor, he’s a flustered mess. He spots Jinyoung immediately, leaning back against the concierge counter looking every bit a model in his striped top and fitted jeans, hair unstyled and slightly damp at the ends. There are glasses perched high on his nose, Jaebum is distressed to note, and he looks sleep-soft and casually stylish, and Jaebum’s fingers itch to take a photo of him.

Jinyoung spots him before he can even consider taking out his camera, though, and a slow smile spreads across his face, bunching is cheeks up and calling those butterflies back. Jaebum presses a hand to his stomach, trying to quell them, and approaches slowly. Watches as Jinyoung shifts around, fabric stretching and bunching over his wide shoulders, to grab the two coffee cups sitting behind him on the counter. 

“Are you ready?” Jinyoung asks, and Jaebum nods, patting himself down just to make sure he has his phone and wallet. 

“Do you know where to go?”

Jinyoung tugs something colorful out of his pocket, waves it at Jaebum. “I have a map, but if you want to ask just to make sure...”

He looks at Jaebum expectantly, eyes wide behind his lenses, then points to the concierge sign on the counter beside him. 

It takes him a moment, but then understanding dawns on him and Jaebum leans into Jinyoung with a raised eyebrow, asks, “Jinyoungie, did you invite yourself along on my tour so you would have someone there to speak English for you?”

“You figured me out,” Jinyoung laughs. He leans in as well, a conspiratorial smile on his face. He smells like coffee and aftershave and something tangy that makes Jaebum‘s stomach swoop. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re very...” he pauses, lips pursing like he’s contemplating his next words, and Jaebum can’t help the way his eyes are drawn down. He swallows compulsively. “Useful,” Jinyoung finishes.

Jaebum’s breath catches in his chest and his blood pulses hot in his veins, thoughts gone fuzzy as Jinyoung slides to the side to make room for him at the desk. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to force his brain to supply him with anything other than an image of Jinyoung pressing him into the hotel bed and showing him just what he means by  _ useful _ , but he manages - just barely - to stutter out an inquiry to the confused looking man operating the desk.

Jinyoung shoulders in as close as he can, warm everywhere they’re pressed together, and the two of them watch as the concierge circles their hotel, important landmarks, and the water taxi stops nearest to each point of interest. They leave the hotel with a plan, coffee cups in hand and an imprint of Jinyoung’s hand on Jaebum’s side from when he’d squeezed it in thanks. Jaebum is doing fine, he’s doing great. His hand is only trembling a little where it’s gripping his coffee, and he tries to decide whether he regrets telling Jinyoung he should join him for the day or not.

The definitive answer is that he doesn’t, Jaebum discovers, once they’ve boarded one of the boats and Jinyoung settles against the railing, elbows back and chin tipped up so he catches the sun against his face. Jaebum fumbles his camera out of his bag and raises it to his eye, then pauses. He should probably ask, first.

“Jinyoung-ah, can I...?” He wiggles the camera when Jinyoung squints one eye open, takes Jinyoung’s response of simply closing his eye again and tipping his head back even further as an affirmative. 

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Jaebum takes three shots in rapid succession, then one with his film camera before looping the strap around his neck and settling back against the railing beside Jinyoung. It’s lovely out, the sun bright against their skin but the breeze off the river nice and cool. He takes a few minutes to look around as the boat idles, waiting for more passengers to board. There is no spot along this part of the river that isn’t picturesque in some way, he decides, lifting his camera to take a few photos of the scenery. He manages to slip Jinyoung’s profile into a few of them, knows without a doubt that the shot of the National Assembly with Jinyoung framed into the bottom corner is going right into his portfolio.

Jinyoung finally peels his eyes open once the boat starts to pull away from the dock. They decide to ride the entire circuit once, just to take everything in, and Jaebum takes photos relentlessly, snapping dozens of shots of each building from a slightly different perspective. Jinyoung is more reserved, taking occasional photos with a small camera he had tucked into his bag. He seems to think each photo out before taking it, aiming the camera carefully, changing his angles and the tilt of his head minutely until he has the exact frame he’d been looking for. It fascinates Jaebum, and he finds himself taking more photos of Jinyoung than he does the scenery.

It’s not until they’ve finished the line at the National Library that Jaebum pulls the map the concierge had marked up out of his pocket and settles back beside Jinyoung again, camera resting against his chest.

“Where do you want to get off?” he asks casually, shaking the map open, then turning to look at Jinyoung.

He jolts when he finds Jinyoung already looking at him, eyes hooded behind his glasses. There’s a hint of a smirk on Jinyoung’s face, just turning the corner of his plush mouth, and it takes a moment for the question to sink in, for heat to rise from Jaebum’s neck right up into his cheeks and out to his ears.

“Off the boat,” he clarifies helplessly, but Jinyoung just stares at him for another moment, drops his gaze deliberately to where Jaebum is nervously biting his lip, then sighs and looks down at the map.

“I want to go to the library,” he says, pointing to the building on the map. He’s pressed all along Jaebum’s side, heat bleeding through their clothes, the weight of his arm heavy across Jaebum’s bent elbow as he leans on him. “And the Musée d’Orsay, and the Eiffel Tower.”

Jaebum swallows, thick against the bolt of heat pulsing in his throat, and asks, “Not the Louvre?”

“It’s too late,” Jinyoung says thoughtfully. “The lines will be so long, it will be the only place we can visit if we have to wait. We can go next time,” he promises, and Jaebum’s heart lurches dangerously in his chest.  _ Next time _ .

 

Jaebum and Jinyoung spend the rest of the day strolling through museums and around monuments, snapping photos and discussing the art and laughing together. They find a creperie and eat sweet pancakes stuffed to overflowing with creamy mushrooms, seated on the dock with their feet dangling over the edge while they wait for one of the water taxis to arrive, then ride the boat all the way back to the end of the line for requisite pictures with the Statue of Liberty before heading on to the Eiffel Tower. It’s the nicest day Jaebum has had in a long while, and it has more to do with his effortlessly beautiful, distressingly flirty company than it does the city, itself. He knows he’s going to be embarrassed once he gets home and goes through his photos, discovers just how many of them are Jinyoung-focused with softened backgrounds, rather than the iconic landmarks of Paris, but every time he raises the camera to his eye, it’s like he’s drawn to wherever Jinyoung is standing like a magnet, finger depressing the shutter before he can even think about it and readjust.

The lawn extending from the base of the Eiffel Tower is crowded when they arrive, but they manage the typical tourist photos that they need to show friends and family before Jaebum turns to Jinyoung and announces that he is  _ starving _ and they need to find a place for dinner immediately. Jinyoung snorts at his dramatics, but he allows Jaebum to drag him off in search of a cafe, some place with cliched Parisian ambiance and, more importantly, wine. They end up seated on a patio on a narrow, cobble-stone street, the dark alley lit by lanterns and the sky going pink above them.

 

“So,” Jinyoung muses. They’ve just finished eating, are slowly polishing off a bottle of wine that sits pleasantly in Jaebum’s chest, relaxed and comfortable. Jinyoung is slouching in his seat, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, body angled toward the street so he can people watch. Jaebum follows the long line of them, up, up, drags his eyes over Jinyoung’s torso and up to his lovely face, cast in shadow by the lanterns above them. The smile on Jinyoung’s face tells him the sweep of his eyes hasn’t gone unnoticed, but Jaebum just takes a challenging sip of his wine, raises an eyebrow at Jinyoung and waits for him to continue his thought. Jinyoung’s voice is low, a little husky when he asks, “What do you think of Paris?”

Jaebum raises his glass to his mouth again, thinks back to the places they saw today. Of the Musée d’Orsay, the building stunning in and of itself; of the beautiful architecture everywhere they turned, the statues and monuments and Jinyoung hunched over a small stack of books in the library, hair falling soft over his eyes, brow furrowed as he studied the French words in careful concentration; of Jinyoung’s tongue slipping out to catch a mushroom as it slid down the side of his hand, their thighs pressed together where they sat on the pier, Jinyoung’s arm draped casually across his shoulders.

He deliberates, then says simply, “There is still a lot to see.”

Jinyoung considers him for a moment, asks, “Do you want to go back out and see more of the sites?”

Jaebum tips his head back to drain his wine glass, eyes Jinyoung across the table. “Is that what you want to do?”

Jinyoung finishes off his own glass, sets it carefully down on the table and spins it in a slow circle before answering. “No.”

That one word thrums through Jaebum’s veins, heady and dizzying, like he’s just swallowed another glass of wine. He stares at Jinyoung for a minute, his eyes dark and unreadable in the darkened alleyway, then stands up with a small clatter, chair catching on the edges of the flagstones. “Right,” Jaebum says, voice just this side of too loud. “I’m going to pay.”

The whole process is a blur, and if Jaebum is honest, he has no idea how they get back to the hotel. The streets of Paris are a mystery to him, and Jinyoung’s hand on his back is searing hot through the leather of his jacket. It’s almost a relief when they arrive in the hotel lobby and Jinyoung’s hand drops away so they can squeeze into the elevator. Jaebum’s room is on the sixth floor, but Jinyoung punches the button for the seventh, then leans back against the panel, hands tucked behind himself, and watches Jaebum. He feels a bit like a caged animal, but in the best kind of way, and if Jinyoung doesn’t stop looking at him like that, this night is going to end a lot sooner than Jaebum would like.

“Stop looking at me like that, Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebum blurts out, scrubbing a hand through his wind-blown hair. He’s flustered, and he finds that he kind of likes it.

Jinyoung’s eyes go wide behind his glasses and he asks, confused, “Like what?”

“Like you’re going to eat me,” Jaebum mutters, flushing just a bit.

Jinyoung tilts his head to the side and asks, coy, “Do you not want me to do that?”

Something white-hot sears through Jaebum, then, and before he’s even made a conscious decision to move, he’s across the small elevator car, hands fisted in the front of Jinyoung’s shirt as he pulls him down into a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. It’s hot and a little sloppy from the get-go, but Jinyoung’s hands fly to Jaebum’s hips underneath his jacket, palms hot through the thin fabric of his shirt as he lets Jaebum feast on his mouth. Everything around them goes fuzzy, Jaebum’s mind nothing but a dull roar and a running loop of everything he wants to do to Jinyoung once they get to his room, everything he wants Jinyoung to do to him.

It takes a moment, when Jinyoung pushes him away, hands still on his waist, the veil of fog melting away so slowly he can’t comprehend anything that’s happening. Jaebum blinks at him, confused and fuzzy and not pleased at the fact that they are no longer kissing. It takes a moment, and then he hears a throat being cleared to his left. He turns to look, finds the elevator doors propped open and two strangers standing framed in the doorway, embarrassed flushes on their cheeks.

“Seventh floor?” one of them asks, eyes carefully trained on the carpet beneath their feet.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung murmurs, tugging Jaebum with him as they slip past the shell-shocked couple and out into the hallway.

A startled laugh slips out, and then Jaebum has to stop, doubled over with it in the middle of the hallway as Jinyoung watches him, an amused smile on his face. 

“How long do you think they were standing there?” Jaebum asks, pulling himself together so they can continue. They have somewhere to be,  _ things _ to do, and he’s tired of waiting. 

“Hopefully not too long,” Jinyoung sighs, but he’s still smiling.

“Well,” Jaebum grins, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside the door to Jinyoung’s room as Jinyoung searches for his key amongst the items in his wallet. “I hope they enjoyed the show.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flash with something bright and dangerous, and as soon as the door swings open, he tugs Jaebum through, only to press him back against the wood and drag him back into another kiss. Jaebum tips his head back on a moan, slips his hands up under Jinyoung’s shirt so he can drag his nails across his bare skin. Jinyoung shivers and presses into him, crowding in close enough that Jaebum can feel the hard line of him through two layers of denim. He cants his hips forward, mindless, thrilling when he’s rewarded with a groan that rumbles against his chest and has Jinyoung’s grip on his jaw going slack.

It’s his turn to groan, in disappointment this time, when Jinyoung steps back, taking all of his warmth and those kiss-swollen lips with him.

“That’s the second time tonight,” Jaebum complains, but Jinyoung just smiles at him and retreats into the room, beckoning for Jaebum to follow. It doesn’t take much convincing.

The room is dim, lit only by the light of the setting sun and a lone lamp beside the bed, but that’s all they need. Jaebum watches as Jinyoung stops in the center of the room and, eyes on Jaebum, tugs his shirt over his head and drops it in a heap on the chair behind him. Jaebum blows out a long, slow breath as he eyes Jinyoung appreciatively. His shoulders are so broad, his torso long and lean, ending in a tapered waist that makes Jaebum’s mouth water. The abs are a nice surprise, well hidden by their work uniform and that horrible waistcoat that makes Jaebum feel like an usher at a theatre, but makes Jinyoung look like a model. He wants to get his mouth on them, trace the lines of him with his tongue. Preferably sooner, rather than later.

Tearing his eyes away from Jinyoung’s body, Jaebum turns to find a surface to lay his jacket across, sheds his shirt and his shoes while he’s at it. By the time he turns back around, Jinyoung is naked, hip cocked as he waits. Jaebum tries not to stare, but Jinyoung is gorgeous, every single inch of him. Mouth watering, Jaebum drags his eyes back up to meet Jinyoung’s, lets a smirk works its way across his face and tips his chin toward the bed, asks Jinyoung in a voice gone low and rough, “Where do you want to get off?”

The force with which Jinyoung rolls his eyes has laughter bubbling up in his chest, bright and amused, despite the arousal sitting heavy in his gut.

“I can’t stand you,” Jinyoung mutters, but he stalks toward Jaebum anyway, tucks his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pushes him down so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He starts to follow Jaebum, one knee drawn up to crawl onto the mattress, but Jaebum stops him with a hand on his chest, locks eyes with Jinyoung for just a moment before ducking in to press a kiss to the center of his stomach. He hears Jinyoung’s breath catch in his throat, feels the way his muscles flutter against his mouth, and he takes it all in, drags his lips across Jinyoung’s warm skin, maps the dips and ridges of his torso before tracking back up to flick the tip of his tongue against his nipple.

The noise Jinyoung makes when he does so is exquisite, sets his blood humming, electric, in his veins. So he does it again, sucks and bites his way across Jinyoung’s chest until there are hands fisting in his hair, tugging his head back so that Jinyoung can kiss him again, filthy and breathless. He goes easily when Jinyoung presses him back and crawls over him, stretches his arms languidly over his head as Jinyoung attacks the buttons on his jeans and tugs them roughly down over his hips. They catch on his feet and Jinyoung gives up with a frustrated growl, doesn’t even wait for Jaebum to shake them off himself before he’s dragging the tips of his fingers along the skin just underneath the waistband of Jaebum’s boxers, pressing his palm firm against the line of Jaebum’s dick though the thin cotton.

Jaebum nearly loses it then, shivers wracking his body, his cock, already achingly hard, pulsing hot against Jinyoung’s hand.

“Jinyoung-ah,” he grits out, finally freeing his feet from his pants, “stop teasing.” He pants, breathless, trying to scoot himself up higher onto the bed. “I’ve been waiting too long for this.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung agrees easily, and before Jaebum registers what’s happening, Jinyoung is tugging his boxers off, then gripping his hips and rolling him onto his stomach, knocking the breath right out of him.

Jaebum lets out an involuntary whine when he feels Jinyoung’s palms sweep down the length of his back, spreading fire in their wake. He grinds mindlessly against the sheets, already embarrassingly desperate, when Jinyoung’s mouth follows the same path, starting at the nape of his neck and dragging slowly, tortuously, along his spine. He stops at each freckle and mole, laving each one with attention, nipping and sucking at Jaebum’s skin hard enough that he knows he’ll be littered with bruises come morning. Just the thought of it, of being able to look in the mirror and map the path Jinyoung’s mouth had taken, is unbearably hot. He arches his back, fingers twisting in the blankets, as Jinyoung pauses, right at the base of his spine.

Jaebum’s voice is raw, threadbare and strained, when he breathes out, “Jinyoung.”

“I promised I would eat you,” Jinyoung murmurs, muffled against the skin of Jaebum’s back, and a shiver ripples down his spine, the muttered words throbbing in his gut.

Jaebum lets out a wild laugh, face turned into the pillow, then twists to look over his shoulder, tries to catch Jinyoung’s eye. “If you do, this is not going to last long.”

He uncurls a hand from the sheets so he can gesture vaguely at the two of them. Jinyoung just stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and hungry, then sighs. To Jaebum’s amusement, there is disappointment in his voice when he sits back on his haunches and mumbles, “ _ Fine _ . Next time, then.”

And there it is again, Jaebum thinks, a bright little thrill, a spark of happiness in his chest.  _ Next time _ .

He’s about to move, muscles bunched and ready to roll over and reach out for Jinyoung, when a firm hand settles in the small of his back, presses him down into the mattress, exactly as he had envisioned that morning. “Stay,” Jinyoung instructs.

He relaxes without thinking, too far gone to be embarrassed now, just turns his head to watch as Jinyoung pads across the room, gloriously naked, to root through his bag. His eyes widen when Jinyoung turns back toward the bed, when he sees the pack of condoms and travel sized bottle of lube clutched in his hand.

“You took lube to work with you?” he asks, forgetting Jinyoung’s order and rolling onto his back so he can track Jinyoung across the room.

Jinyoung just shrugs as he knees onto the bed and shuffles across the blankets. He drops the condom and lube so he can slide his palms up the insides of Jaebum’s legs, fingernails dragging against the sensitive skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. Jaebum’s legs fall open on a breathy little moan and Jinyoung fits himself between them, reaches for the lube and flips it between his fingers with a self-satisfied little smirk. “You can never be too prepared, Jaebum.”

All thoughts of teasing die on Jaebum’s lips when Jinyoung flips the bottle cap open, the sound too loud in the stillness of the room. It feels like the entire world is waiting, suspended in silence as Jinyoung rubs the lube between his fingers, warming it up, brows furrowed adorably in concentration. It’s too much for Jaebum, his belly tight with anticipation, his chest too full of emotions, and he has to close his eyes against the picture Jinyoung makes, the sight of himself, sprawled out and waiting.

The initial slide of the pads of Jinyoung’s fingers against him takes Jaebum by surprise, a small gasp working its way out of his chest, but it’s quick from there, hot and messy as Jinyoung works him open on his fingers, one two three. By the time Jinyoung sits back so he can reach for the condom, Jaebum is out of his mind, sweaty and breathless, his entire body buzzing, tensed and ready. Pulling his legs back, trying his best to be careful when he can barely hold a stable thought in his head past an endless loop of Jinyoung’s name, Jaebum rolls over onto his stomach, knees tucked underneath himself and back arched, a silent demand.

He feels one of Jinyoung’s hands slide down his back, tracing the same path he had earlier, pausing at each bruise his mouth left behind so he can press his fingers to them. They don’t hurt, not really, but just the knowledge of what Jinyoung is doing has heat rolling along his skin, and Jaebum moans, wiggles his hips against Jinyoung’s. Another demand.

Jinyoung’s laugh is breathy, his voice rough when he grips Jaebum’s hip and promises, “I’ve got you.”

And he does, Jaebum thinks, delirious, as Jinyoung presses in slowly, so slowly Jaebum’s jaw aches from the way he’s been holding himself so tense. Everything breaks when Jinyoung bottoms out, his chest pressed all along Jaebum’s back, lips against the side of his neck. It hurts, just a little, but it’s Jinyoung and he’s been waiting for this for so long, too long, and he just wants -

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung laughs, breathless, trying to pin him down, hands on sweat-slick skin.

Jaebum hadn’t even realized he’d been squirming, trying in vain to get Jinyoung to do something, to  _ move _ . It feels like the greatest reward when he does, finally,  _ finally _ , pulling out just to press back in, long and slow and mind-numbingly hot.

Shaking his head, Jaebum reaches back, hands seeking purchase against Jinyoung’s skin. “Can you,” he gasps, breath catching as Jinyoung rocks into him, “go a little faster or something?”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, just carries on with his gentle, easy thrusts, hands soft on Jaebum’s hips, and it’s driving Jaebum mad. Gritting his teeth, he arches his back, works his hips against Jinyoung’s as much as he can and grits out, “ _ Jinyoung _ , please.”

There’s a pause, just a short one, but enough to set Jaebum on edge, and then Jinyoung’s hands tighten around his hips, hauling him up onto his knees, and he gives Jaebum what he’s been asking for. Jaebum groans when Jinyoung pulls almost all the way out, then snaps his hips forward, knees sliding in the sheets form the force of it. It’s rough and desperate and exactly what Jaebum wants, has wanted for the better part of two years. He drops down onto his elbows, arms trembling with the effort of holding himself up, and slides one hand down his own chest to wrap around himself, needing the pressure, the friction, needing  _ something _ .

It’s so much like this, Jinyoung’s hands tight on his hips, holding him steady as he fucks into him, the slick slide of skin on skin deafeningly loud in the quiet room, and Jaebum can feel himself tipping dangerously close to the edge already, sparks skittering just underneath his skin. Desperation starts to pool behind his eyes, impatience and pleasure building and tugging him in too many directions, but he can’t work his cock from this angle, and he just needs -

“Jinyoung,” he whines, tugging his hand out from under himself and twisting it in the sheets. 

He doesn’t have to say anything else. Understanding, Jinyoung just curls himself down over Jaebum’s back and wraps a hand around his cock, tugs him off rough and unsteady, and Jaebum comes embarrassingly quickly. Jinyoung curses and grinds against him when Jaebum tightens around him, and it sends another bolt of heat through Jaebum’s gut, almost painful in his over-sensitive state. 

Jaebum holds himself up, entire body trembling with the effort, as Jinyoung whispers unintelligible things against the nape of his neck as he chases his own release, until he can feel Jinyoung shudder with the force of his own orgasm, grip on his hips tightening until he’s sure there will be bruises there come morning. He’s grateful when Jinyoung catches him just before his elbows give out, tugs him over to the side of the bed where the sheets are blissfully cool and clean.

Jaebum sprawls out, limbs gone pleasantly loose and numb, and watches through hazy eyes as Jinyoung pads to the bathroom and returns a moment later with a damp washcloth. He hums appreciatively as Jinyoung towels them both down, reaches out with greedy fingers as Jinyoung shoves the dirtied top sheet off the bed and tugs the duvet up and over them both.

“I want to be the big spoon,” Jaebum demands, preening just a little when Jinyoung laughs, exhausted and breathless.

“This time,” he agrees sleepily, turning over so Jaebum can curl around him, chin hooked over his shoulder and one arm banded across his chest.

He’s nearly asleep when Jinyoung jostles him, twisting around in his loose grip and reaching across him for something. Jaebum grumbles in complaint, but Jinyoung just shushes him, whispers, “Have to set an alarm. We have a flight tomorrow.”

Jaebum’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “I don’t want to. We should just stay here.”

Jinyoung laughs again, soft puffs of breath against Jaebum’s neck, and Jaebum pries his eyes open to take him in. Jinyoung’s hair is a sweaty, matted mess, but a blush still sits high on his cheeks and his lips are still bitten red, and Jaebum’s heart thumps unsteadily in his chest. Grumbling again, but for an entirely different reason, Jaebum tips his chin up to capture Jinyoung’s mouth in a kiss, soft and sweet.

“Don’t worry, Jaebum-ah,” Jinyoung murmurs, lips dragging against Jaebum’s. “We’ll do this again soon. I have to keep my promise, don’t I?”

It takes a moment for Jaebum’s sleepy, sex-addled brain to catch up, but when he does, he feels a pulse of heat in his gut, lets a feral little smile curve the corners of his mouth. His eyes are sharp, satisfied, when he meets Jinyoung’s gaze, answers, “Yes, Jinyoungie. Yes, you do.”

➿

“You know, this is kind of nice,” Jaebum starts, leaning back in his seat so he can peer out the window. He can feel Jinyoung’s eyes on him, hears the click of a shutter closing, followed by the sound of Jinyoung putting his camera away. He turns to look once Jinyoung has settled back against his seat again, offers Jinyoung a little smile and says, “But I don’t know how I feel about being on an airplane and not being able to ogle your ass in our uniform pants.”

Jinyoung lets out a startled laugh, glancing around them to see if anyone is listening in on their conversation. Sound doesn’t carry easily on a plane, though, as they both know, everyone around them minding their own business, so Jinyoung settles against Jaebum’s shoulder, chin tucked down so he, too, can watch the clouds.

“It is kind of weird,” Jinyoung agrees. “I’ve only ever been on an airplane as a flight attendant.”

“Can I get you anything?” a voice interrupts from the aisle, and Jaebum turns an easy smile on Youngjae, familiar to him from the Tokyo circuit they sometimes work together.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, waving a water bottle in the air.

“I want some wine,” Jinyoung says decisively, resting his hand on Jaebum’s thigh. “Drink wine with me.”

“We’re going to Paris,” Jaebum reminds him. “We don’t need airplane wine, we can have all the delicious French wine we want once we get there.”

Jinyoung pouts, though, bottom lip pushed out in a way he  _ knows _ Jaebum can never resist, and he lets out a long-suffering sigh, looks back up at Youngjae, who’s just standing there, looking back and forth between the two of them in vague confusion.

“Youngjae,” Jaebum says, reaching across Jinyoung to pat his arm, “a word of advice. When you get to Paris, if any of the other flight attendants ask you to tour around with them, just say no. Your alone time is valuable, and you never know what pain in the ass you’re going to end up with.”

“Hey,” Jinyoung gasps, squeezing Jaebum’s thigh in indignation. Neither of them notice when Youngjae slinks off down the aisle with a roll of his eyes. “You wanted that pain in your ass, or have you forgotten?”

“I didn’t forget,” Jaebum says with a laugh, lifting his arm so Jinyoung can settle in against his side, cheek pillowed against his shoulder. He remembers all too well, had even considered booking the same hotel, just for nostalgia’s sake. In the end, they had gone for something a little swankier, something more suited for their one year anniversary and their first vacation together.

He looks up when Youngjae returns, two of the little travel bottles of wine in hand, and takes them with a murmured thank you. Jaebum hands one of the bottles to Jinyoung, then uncaps his own, mourning the loss of warmth when Jinyoung sits up so he can open his and offer it to Jaebum in toast.

“To Paris,” Jinyoung says with a raised eyebrow. “And to seeing more than the inside of a hotel room.”

Grinning, Jaebum leans in, tips his bottle against Jinyoung’s. “To pains in the ass. They’re not all bad, I guess.”

“You just have to find the appropriate pain level,” Jinyoung agrees, eyes twinkling as he takes a sip from his tiny bottle of wine.

Jaebum snorts, then downs his bottle in one go, nose scrunching with the bitter taste. Tucking the empty bottle into the seat pocket, he checks his watch, settles back with a sigh. Seven more hours and they’ll be back in Paris, right back where it all began.

Humming happily to himself, Jaebum turns to look at Jinyoung, studies the way the light streaming in through the window plays off his skin, sets him aglow. Jinyoung just smiles back, head tipped back against the seat, soft and sweet and a little sleepy. Contentment curls in Jaebum’s chest, warm and pleasantly heavy, and he reaches out for Jinyoung’s hand, laces their fingers together and tugs their clasped hands into his lap. He thinks about all of the places he wants to go this time, all of the things he wants to see, then looks over at Jinyoung, eyelashes casting long shadows across his cheekbones, lips pursed as he chases sleep, and he reconsiders, contemplates spending the entire week holed up in their hotel room, subsisting on room service and each other.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jinyoung says suddenly, low and amused. He cracks one eye open, squints up at Jaebum. “I want to see the Louvre this time. And the Arc de Triomphe, and I want to go back to the library.”

Jaebum opens his mouth, maybe to argue, just for amusement’s sake, but Jinyoung claps his free hand over his mouth, and  _ oh _ . 

There must be something written on his face, something that makes Jinyoung’s eyes flash with heat, because he tightens his grip on Jaebum’s mouth briefly, just for a moment, before dropping it to his lap. And then, with a resigned sigh, he says, “The first day.  _ Only _ the first day.”

A smug little grin settles on Jaebum’s face, tucked into the corners of his mouth and bright in his eyes, and he squeezes Jinyoung’s hand, wiggles around so the sides of their clasped hands are snug between his legs. He revels in the way Jinyoung’s eyes flash again, the way the tips of his ears go red and he shifts awkwardly in his own seat. There’s heat in Jaebum’s voice, a promise of his own when he says, “We’ll see, Jinyoung-ah. We’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it! I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/idkmybffwangji) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/bigbabyjeno), if you want to say hi!


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